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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655630">even the strongest break sometimes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thompsborn/pseuds/thompsborn'>thompsborn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>vent fics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hurt/Comfort, M/M, depressive bipolar, more like, one line talking about thinking about dying, semi-suicidal thoughts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:53:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24655630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thompsborn/pseuds/thompsborn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry knows Peter in a way that Harley has yet to figure out—in the same way that Peter knows Harry in a way that Harley doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to nail down. That’s just what happens when two people grow up together, knowing each other since they were in diapers, discovering every aspect about themselves with the other by their side. Harley loves them both, knows that they love him, too, but he’s only been in the picture for a little over a year now. There’s so much more that he has to learn, so much more that he’s willing to figure out but hasn’t had the chance to yet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Harry Osborn, Harley Keener/Peter Parker, Harley Keener/Peter Parker/Harry Osborn, Harry Osborn/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>vent fics [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782634</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>even the strongest break sometimes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi im have depressive bipolar also known as bipolar 2 and it sucks! and im currently hitting a low point in a depressive episode! but im determined to fulfill my promise of posting at least one fic/chapter of a fic every day for the rest of june, so here's a vent fic with depressive bipolar peter parker!</p><p>honestly, i think depressive bipolar would be much more fitting for harry, and i plan to write a fic to delve into that in the future, but with how much trauma peter has faced it felt easier to just write him as the depressive bipolar for this one shot.</p><p>(is it bad that i have headcanons for what mental illnesses all my favorite characters have and how those mental illnesses affect them? because peter i think has severe anxiety and ptsd and harry i think has depressive bipolar with fairly bad hypomanic episodes that almost reach manic but just don't happen often enough or intensely enough to classify him as bipolar 1, and harley imo has chronic depression and insomnia, and flash definitely feels like he's either bipolar or has bpd but i havent been able to decide which i think fits him best yet, and ned is definitely social anxiety but with that anxiety trying to make him fit in which is why he lies so often and does dumb shit to try and gain popularity and i could go on for a fucking while about this but instead i will stop there lmao)</p><p>anyway heed the tags and if you didn't read them then be careful as <b>there is a line that hints at suicidal thoughts</b> and i mean in my opinion this doesn't hit very deep? because like this is just scraping off the top of my depressive bipolar brain but oh well!! hope u like it sorry for the angst but i swear the hurt/comfort tag does very much include that comfort part</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harley tightens his hold on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. It helps to hide the way his hands are shaking uncontrollably, but it does nothing for the waver in his voice as he sucks in a sharp, sudden breath and grits out, “What the <em>hell</em> were you thinking?”</p><p>In the passenger seat, clothes soaked through and hair still dripping, Peter doesn’t respond. He just looks out the window, silent and brooding in a way that Peter Parker was never meant to be.</p><p>“Pete,” Harry says, from the back seat. He voice is more even than Harley’s—he has more practice with keeping a calm and collected tone when under the utmost amount of stress, after all. Growing up under the thumb of Norman Osborn, trained to become the CEO of a business as soon as he could walk, does that sort of thing to a person. He leans forward, apparently not bothering with having his seat belt on, and sticks his head in between the front seat with a small frown on his face. “Look at me, Peter.”</p><p>Still, Peter doesn’t respond, though his shoulders hunch up a bit, up to his ears as he slouches in the seat.</p><p>“Parker,” Harley bites, tone clipped. He’s not angry, really—even if he sounds like he might be. He’s fucking terrified, though, about whatever the hell he just saw, whatever the hell they almost didn’t show up in time to stop. His fingers curl tighter around the wheel until it aches. “Peter, I swear to god—”</p><p>“Harley, stop,” Harry says suddenly, a bit harsh and sudden, one hand reaching out to latch onto his wrist. Harley looks away from the road quickly, bewildered, but Harry is only looking at Peter, his eyes wide and sad. Harley isn’t sure why, exactly, until he looks over, too, and sees that Peter’s shoulders are shaking, his chest stuttering and heaving around silent sobs. Harry reaches over slowly, carefully, brushes fingers through Peter’s hair and rests his hand on the back of his neck. “Pete…”</p><p>Peter shakes his head, hunches on himself even more, curls his knees up to his chest and presses his forehead to the window, keeping his face hidden from the two of them.</p><p>It hurts, really—twists in his gut like a blade buried deep into his side. He’s not angry. He’s scared, and Peter is crying, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know anything, really, and if he doesn’t know what’s wrong, then he doesn’t know what the hell he can do to make it better.</p><p>Can he do anything for whatever the hell this is?</p><p>“This might seem weird,” Harry says, speaking slow and careful in the way that he only does when it comes to Peter and Harley, that sort of gentle nature that never shows itself in the public eyes, “but I’m gonna climb into the front seat with you, okay? Scoot over, just a little bit, alright?”</p><p>Peter shows no sign that he heard what Harry said, but he moves, after a few moment of nothing, presses himself closer to the car door to make room in the seat. Harry lets out a little hum that reverberates through the silence of the car and grabs onto the backs of the seat for leverage, pulls himself over the center console and wiggles his way into the seat next to Peter with surprising ease. It’s a tight squeeze, but there’s no complaint from either of them, even as Peter makes a soft sound that’s hard to decipher.</p><p>Harry knows Peter in a way that Harley has yet to figure out—in the same way that Peter knows Harry in a way that Harley doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to nail down. That’s just what happens when two people grow up together, knowing each other since they were in diapers, discovering every aspect about themselves with the other by their side. Harley loves them both, knows that they love him, too, but he’s only been in the picture for a little over a year now. There’s so much more that he has to learn, so much more that he’s willing to figure out but hasn’t had the chance to yet.</p><p>This is one of the things that Harley hasn’t gotten right quite yet—when Peter gets like this, the complete opposite of how he usually is. Silent and cowering away from comfort and always struggling to catch his breath, chest heaving and hands shaking and disappearing around random corners. Harley’s never had to help track him down before—he has his places that he goes, apparently, the same few that Harry and May and Tony know where to look, but something about this is different. Peter went somewhere else, somewhere he’s never gone before during times like this, and while Harry usually reassures Harley that he doesn’t need to get involved, he had begged Harley to come to the car this time, pleaded with him to drive, drive, drive, pulling up the GPS on Peter’s phone to find out where he went.</p><p>And when they found him, he was floating on his back in a below freezing pond in the middle of upstate New York, far from the city, from most civilization in general, staring at the sky with a blank sort of expression in his eyes that sent a shiver running down Harley’s spine. That wasn’t Peter—at least, not the Peter that Harley knows. But he doesn’t know all of Peter yet, just like Peter doesn’t know all of him.</p><p>Harry knows, though. Harry has seem the depths of Peter’s mind, every hidden crevice and dark corner.</p><p>“I know it’s been a bad day,” he says, speaking softly, resting a hand on Peter’s shaking shoulder. “I know you’re probably tired and don’t want to talk, but—but we’re here, alright? Whatever you need from us, we’re right here and we aren’t going anywhere. Let us help you, Peter. Please.”</p><p>Harley isn’t sure if just words will do much, but Peter’s breath hitches and he turns, suddenly, wraps his arms around Harry’s torso and burrows into his chest with a croak of a sob that sounds painful, grating against his throat as it pushes past blue tinted lips and rumbles in his chest. Harry doesn’t seem surprised by this, is already holding Peter against him with soft hums and reassurances, little words of love and promise. Harley has to keep his eyes on the road, he knows, but he keeps glancing at them, his heart thundering and crying out in his chest, wanting nothing more than to reach over and pull them into him and hold the three of them together, keep them intact instead of scattered like broken glass on the floor.</p><p>Harry coos, “It’s alright,” as Peter cries into his sweatshirt. Breathes a little, “Let it out, baby, it’s gonna be okay,” when Peter starts to choke on his own breaths due to the intensity of his sobs.</p><p>If there’s anything Harley hates, it’s feeling useless, and that’s exactly how he feels right now. All he can do is keep driving, keep going forward while his listens to one of his boyfriends fall apart while his other boyfriends cradles him like he’s fragile, like he’s breakable, and—and Harley’s never thought of Peter Parker as either of those things before. He’s human, sure, and all humans have their limits, but Peter is strong in a way that Harley’s never seen in a person before. He’s squared shoulders and warm eyes and a kind smile that never wavers no matter how cruel the world treats him. He laughs even when he’s being treated for broken bones are third degree burns and promises that he’ll be alright after almost dying at the hands of the villain of the week that seems hell bent on making Peter’s life a living hell.</p><p>Peter Parker is strong—stronger than anyone, Harley believes—but strength is limited, and everyone burns out every once in a while. This just happens to be a pretty bad burn out, apparently, and Harley just wants to do something—wants to make it better, however he possibly can.</p><p>It takes a while before Peter starts to calm down, which isn’t a problem, really, since it’s about an hour drive back to the city, and they’re only about halfway through that drive when his sobs turn to sniffles and hiccups and shaky, uneven breaths that he greedily gulps down. Eventually, there’s no noise at all other than the rumble of the tires rolling over the pavement, the car so quiet that Harley thinks Peter must have fallen asleep, but when he looks over, he sees brown eyes peeking over Harry’s shoulder and staring out the windshield, still scarily vacant and lacking the warmth that Harley’s so used to seeing.</p><p>About twenty minutes from the city, Peter finally speaks up, his voice cracking as he mumbles out, “What if…” and then trails off, brows twitching together in the way they do whenever he frowns.</p><p>Harry is running fingers through Peter’s hair and humming lightly into his ear, but he stops when Harley cautiously questions, “What if… what? What were you going to say?”</p><p>For a moment, Peter doesn’t reply, just keeps staring at the open road in front of the car with something unreadable and far away in his eyes. When he speaks again, he voice is even softer, almost impossible to hear if it weren’t for the lack of any other noise in the car, and he says, “What if we just… what if we just crashed this car, you know? And just… just make it all… make everything just… <em>stop, </em>you know?”</p><p>It takes, perhaps, a second too long for those words to process in Harley’s head, but as soon as they do, he’s yanking the wheel and bringing the car to the side of the road with something screaming in his chest. He’s a little harsh in his actions as he pushes the gear into park and gasps for air that he didn’t realize he needs, and then he’s twisting in his seat to face Peter fully, doesn’t even take much notice to the way that Harry is staring at him with wide, surprised green eyes. “No,” he says, trembling hands pressing to his knees and digging his nails into the material of his jeans. <em>“No.</em> You can’t—Peter, the world—the world <em>needs</em> you, alright? <em>We</em> need you, and—and you—fuck, I can’t even—can’t even <em>imagine—"</em></p><p>“Harley,” Harry tries to cut in, and his eyes are shining with tears now, glimmering under the little bit of light provided by the setting sun. “Harley, you have to—”</p><p><em>“No,”</em> Harley interrupts, shaking his head sharply and pushing himself back against the car door with a deep, uneven breath. “I can’t—I know that I’m not—I’m not as in this as you two are, okay? You’ve known each other longer, you’re closer to each other than I am to either of you, and—and I get that, that’s fine, ‘cause I know it’s just something that will even out with time, alright? But that doesn’t—that doesn’t mean I don’t care, okay? That doesn’t mean I don’t love you guys with every fucking thing that I have and that—that I’m not scared shitless at just the idea of ever losing either of you and I’m—I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I know the full story, or that I know what’s going on or what’s wrong or how I can make any of it better, but I’m here, alright? I’m right here, Peter Parker—I’m here for you, for Harry, for the three of us and whatever we make of ourselves down the line. I’m here for all of it, and I refuse to sit here and let you think that making it stop would make anything better. It wouldn’t, alright? All you would accomplish is ruining your chances to see just how good of a future you could have. And you’re going to have a good future—all of us are, because—because I <em>refuse</em> to settle for less, okay? I <em>refuse.”</em></p><p>The silence that follows his outburst is heavier than any weight that he’s ever had to carry, and his chest is heaving with the breaths that didn’t seem important while he was trying to make his point clear, lungs aching a bit as he sucks in air and lets it out in shaky, uneven puffs. Peter’s eyes are glassy and a little less vacant than before—still not as warm as they usually are, but it looks like the swirls of gold mixing with the dark brown are starting to shimmer like they tend to do when his heart is being a bit too loud. Harry is looking at Harley with a strained sort of fondness that pulls at his eyebrows and makes his adam’s apple bob when he swallows roughly around the lump in his throat. In all honesty, Harley isn’t sure if what he said is what he really meant to say—isn’t sure if the point he wanted to make is the one that came across, but he must have said something right because Peter is reaching for him, cupping his face in icy cold palms and pulling him in for a lingering sort of kiss, not one filled with fire or desperation, but one simmering with unspoken love and gratitude. Harley is hopeless to do anything but lean into it, one hand resting against Peter’s wrist, the other reaching out and holding onto Harry like a lifeline, twitching fingers into the material of Harry’s sleeve and refusing to let him go. Harry doesn’t seem to mind, twists his arm a bit and shifts Harley’s hold until their fingers are intertwined instead, squeezes his hand with silent reassurance and presses his lips to Harley’s knuckles with a warm sort of gentleness that makes Harley’s heart flutter in his chest, like a middle schooler with a silly crush, only so, <em>so</em> much more.</p><p>When Peter pulls away, there are tears rolling down his cheeks, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips and love shining in his eyes. “I can’t even begin to explain,” he murmurs, “just how much that means to me. I just… I love you so much, okay? It doesn’t matter that I’ve known Harry longer. You’re with us, all the way. I love you just as much as I love him and I—I’m so lucky to have you. To have <em>both</em> of you.”</p><p>“This is so <em>sappy,” </em>Harry says, using just a hint of that sarcasm that usually drips from his words, but his eyes are shining and he’s got Harley’s hand in his, other arm wrapped around Peter’s waist, the three all connected in one way or another, skin to skin and heart to heart.</p><p>It makes Peter laugh, though—a small one, sure, but it still chimes through the car like a bell. Harley swallows the lump in his throat and wants nothing more than to keep pouring out his heart and preaching his love to the two of them until they know just how much they mean to him, but Peter’s clothes are still wet and his hair is still damp and Harley hasn’t forgotten why they’re out here in the first place.</p><p>So, he clears his throat a bit, keeps his tone as open and gentle as he can, and he asks, “What happened?”</p><p>He doesn’t specify what it is he’s asking about—he doesn’t need to. Immediately, Peter is looking away and Harry is looking as Peter and Harley just wants to patch it with a band aid and move on, but he can’t. So, instead, he waits, patient and nonjudgmental, until Peter eventually puffs out a sigh and slowly answers, “Sometimes, things are… too much, I guess. And when they are, I just—I want to take a break. Go somewhere, you know? Get away from everything for a little while.”</p><p>“He thinks it’s normal,” Harry adds, thumb rubbing circles into Peter’s hip while the other brushes over Harley’s knuckles absentmindedly. “And, to some point, it is, but—but this is different. I convinced him to talk to his therapist about it, and about everything else that he won’t talk about, and she thinks he has depressive bipolar, but he refuses to get an official diagnosis because he doesn’t want to have to go through the process of making meds that’ll make it past his metabolism long enough to actually work.”</p><p>Peter frowns a bit, but he doesn’t appear upset about Harry sharing this—instead, it seems like he’s frowning simply because Harry said it before he could say it himself. Harley lets those words settle in his head, flips them over a few times to really process it, and then nods a bit as he pieces together a response. “I can’t… I can’t make you get a diagnosis,” he starts slowly. “No one can. That’s your choice to make. But, when… when things are like this, and you just want to—want to get away and stuff, you don’t have to go alone. You know that, right? We could all go together, and—and Harry and I, we can listen, or just be there as silent support, or whatever else you need us to do, you know?”</p><p>“Yeah, but…” Peter trails off, casts his eyes to the side and seems to shrink in on himself. “But it’s… it’s so <em>heavy,</em> and I—I don’t want to make you guys carry any of that. It’s not your job to take care of me.”</p><p>“No, it isn’t,” Harley agrees, “but that doesn’t mean we don’t want to. I mean, I think I speak for both of us when I say we have no problem being there for you and helping you carry that weight. Just like I know you both would happily do the same for me, and we—” he gestures with his free hand between himself and Peter, “—wouldn’t hesitate to do it for him—” and he points to Harry, too. “It’s not our job, no, but I don’t mind sharing that heaviness. If it’ll make things a little bit better for you, then I <em>want</em> to do it.”</p><p>Harry squeezes Harley’s hand again and nods. “He’s right, Pete. We want to help you.”</p><p>Peter sinks his teeth into his lower lip, seems to struggle with how to respond and lets out a long, slow breath before settling on, “I just… I guess I don’t understand why you’d want to… to put in that effort.”</p><p>“Because we love you,” Harry says simply, shifts how he’s sitting until Peter is pretty much sitting on his lap and he can lean over until his shoulder is pressed against Harley’s. Harley doesn’t hesitate to melt into it, slouches until his head rests on Harry’s shoulder. “We love each other, and we take care of each other, because that’s just what we want to do. We don’t have to, but we want to, anyway.”</p><p>Puffing out a sigh, Peter seems to give up the fight, not wanting to question it anymore, and instead lets his eyes flutter shut and slouches over and against Harley’s chest, his legs still curled up in Harry’s lap. Harley wraps an arm around Peter to keep him secure, doesn’t mind when Peter’s hair tickles his nose, instead pulls him closer because he thinks that maybe Peter needs to feel the security right now. Plus, it’s a nice feeling, being so close to both of them, feeling them where they’re pressed together, can practically feel all three of their heart beats lining up in time with one another. Sinks into the comfort and relishes in the love that swells within him, overwhelming and pure and so, so wonderful.</p><p>“I love you,” Peter murmurs, muffled by the material of Harley’s sweatshirt. “I love you so much.”</p><p>Harry presses a kiss to Harley’s temple and lightly squeezes at Peter’s hip. “I think it’s pretty obvious by how many times we’ve said it tonight, but we love you, too. I love you—” he nudges his thumb into Peter’s side, “—and I love you—” he squeezes Harley hand, “—and I’ll keep saying it until you two never doubt it again, you insecure little shits.”</p><p>“Coming from the king of deflection,” Harley snorts.</p><p>“Rude,” Harry says, scoffing. He lets go of Harley’s hand and gently places his fingers under Harley’s chin, lifts his head and turns it until they’re nose to nose. He’s sporting a faux glare and an adoring smile and his words are sarcastic when he says, “I’m the king of <em>perfection</em>, actually. I have no flaws.”</p><p>Peter lets out a laugh at that, which makes Harley snort again, which makes Harry’s smile grow into a full blown grin before leaning forward to slot their mouths together, kissing him sweetly and soundly.</p><p>Right here—in a parked car on the side of the road, twenty minutes outside of the city—all that matters is them. For now, that is more than enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>send me more prompts or yell at me on tumblr @ spidey-lad !!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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